The Legend of Zelda: Silhouettes in Time
by Serras-Kai
Summary: A tale eternally retold. A tale of magic, a tale of swordsmanship. A tale of calculating evil versus courageous good. A tale of love, a tale of loss. And now, a tale of tragedy and strife unfolds for a pair of unwilling would-be adventurers....
1. Before Hand

**The Legend of Zelda****The twin Blades**

**Chapter 1:**** Before Hand**

Link tightened the already vice-like grip around his weapon and widened his stance for a lowered center of balance. His wounds from throughout the day weren't severe, but each of them screamed in agony from the strenuous activity of combat. Sweat poured from his brow, blood from his wounds- the hero was falling apart at the seams. His sword was held perfectly upright, his shield separated the heretic king and himself. With a deep breath he stepped forward, his gleaming blade slicing the air cleanly, but the massive figure that was his opponent stepped back and the attack missed completely. The counterattack was much worse, as the massive, armored knee of the larger foe sent Link tumbling through the air back several feet. The crowd drew in a collective breath as they saw him fall, each of them eager to see him succeed in his make believe quest to save their good kingdom. He slumped to his feet at the taunting laughter of the massive Ganondorf, dropping back to his knees once as he tried to stand, his hours upon hours of fighting the armies of the creature before him, all in the effort of catching up with him. Vacantly he noticed his shield had clattered away from him, out of sight and out of mind, offstage. But it mattered little now- it hadn't been very useful so far and he was on the verge of abandoning it anyway.

With a grim smirk Ganondorf charged Link and slashed at him, but Link leaned back and dodged the blow aimed for his neck by a narrow margin. With a deft motion he recovered himself and stabbed at his enemy, but a rise in the other's arm knocked Link's sword away. Ganondorf swung again, the blow slamming into Link's shoulder at an awkward angle and dug in, it's momentum defeated by Link's sturdy chain mail. Before Link could retaliate Ganondorf had already withdrawn his blade, but his next attack was not soon enough. Link lunged with his sword forward, catching the demon thief off guard and piercing his side. The two spun away from one another, prepared for a resumed assault.

Ganondorf opened the second round by stepping forward and slashing in a wide arc at Link's knees, an attack that surprised the crowd but left Link unimpressed. Moving his blade to block, Link used the massive opening to move closer to Ganondorf, only a step but enough to give him an advantage, or so he thought. The right hook that nearly snapped his neck changed Link's opinion on that as his battle stance shattered, leaving him only to collapse underneath his own weight. His sword left him, sliding away a few feet but it at least managed to stay on stage and out of the crowd. He groaned, his body aching from the fights, but he was determined, even falsely, to slay his enemy.

At the false king's behest, Link stood again. He eyed his weapon, but dared not move for it for fear of the other attacking him and potentially knocking him into the eager fans who were waiting on the edge of their seats, eyeing the pair and waiting for the outcome they knew was inevitable. Smiling again in a way that made him look believable, Ganondorf subtly motioned for Link to retrieve his weapon. With that cue, Link dove for the sword, with the Gerudo prince stabbing at him, but fate denied his attack once again. With a cry of rage, Ganondorf slashed at Link, who blocked the attack at the sacrifice of his footing, causing him to stumble enough for Ganondorf to place his boot square in Link's stomach, causing him to fall again. The outcome was different this time, however, as Link rolled to avoid a massive overhead slash from Ganondorf that chipped the wooden stage beneath his massive weapon. As he stood, Link used his momentum to carry him upward and plant his sword firmly on the stomach of his opponent. With his momentum carrying him through the attack, the sword dragged across the fabric of the costume, releasing the its bloody confides across the floor. Ganondorf howled in pain, as he turned to face his killer. Stepping back, he grinned. His face paint glistened in the dim lighting, forcing Link to smile- usually it had flaked off by this point. But it held, which sold the illusion all the better to the townsfolk.

With a lunge, Link rammed his blade into the vacant air beside the dark being, drawing the massive man closer until the shocked face of the creature met the grimly determined face of the young hero, selling the false destruction for one final performance.

With a chilling tone, Link uttered the final words the king heard- "I… renounce you."

The massive opponent, shocked beyond belief, fell away from Link, crashing to the ground in a heap of armor and flesh. He huffed, spitting blood across his face, then breathed his last.

The curtain closed and the scene was changed to the next, a balcony scene where Link would confess that he could not stay in Hyrule. The time between the two on-stage events was enough for his home village to be sacked and everyone die, meaning that there could be more. This warranted enough of a radical decision as this, in the interest of saving the kingdom from the evil that would defile it for vengeance over it's dark master. Verily, even the crowd would beg Link to stay, but he would not. He would leave, just as he did every time this play was put on, every year, on the same day, the anniversary of the heretic King's defeat and the salvation of Hyrule.

The remainder of the act matter little to the people- reiterating everything Zelda had said earlier about progress and where they were going in life, essentially shoving the "larger message" down their throats before closing the curtains on the event.

As the curtain closed softly over the stage, separating the actors from the world, Arkanhim let out a soft sigh of relief. She'd been there this whole time, watching, just as she had the previous year- and the year before that. She stood at attention at her post, as she usually did, day in and day out, even on holidays like this one when she really didn't need to. She was the only guard willingly on duty in the expansive Castle town of Hyrule proper, making her rather unpopular with her men, who would much rather be with the others who were out and about or watching whatever remained of the play of the hero's feats a mere twenty years ago,

A group walked by, a family, dressed as heroes and princesses, even the children. Today was a fine day that had lead into a fine night where everyone had a good time for the sake of the hero who had saved them not so long ago.

"Don't drool, Ark." the familiar voice came from beside her with a hollow tone as it came from underneath a helmet. In a reflexive movement, Ark tore her helmet off her own head and wiped her chin, stopping with he arm still up as she realized she'd been fooled. Dropping her arm and resting her helmet under it, Ark turned to meet the gaze of Nicolai with a foul look, but he only smiled. She couldn't see his smile, of course, for his helmet remained on, but she knew, she _knew_ he was smiling. Nicolai was the night shift guard with her, as well as her best -possibly only true- friend.

They were gate guards, but not the important gate guards that protected the cities exits and entrances. No, the Hyrule castle town was divided up into sections with gates that prevented people from freely moving from one section to another in an interest of staving off invaders by simply trapping them in one section of town, sacrificing it for the sake of the rest. Unfortunately this duty garnered little to no respect from the townspeople (Ark in particular) and even less sympathy.

Even her own men disliked her policies. Always on guard, always in uniform, no matter where you are or are not prepared the attack is valid. She called them "clan rules," a hint at her heritage amongst the Gerudo. This perhaps was her fascination with the famous heroes' plight, but that could never be definitively proven. It was on days like this- festivities and joyous occasions- that she revealed her true colors.

They weren't disloyal to Ark, not really. Rather within they saw her as a fine leader, although stubborn and humorless. They disliked her policies but loved her as they would a sister- some would die for her. That was what it meant to be a guard in Hyrule; You would kill for a kinsman, but die for a leader.

There were nine of them, in total- gate guards, that is. For this gate alone, no less- and that was how it always had been, since Link had done his duty. Seven of the guards, the seven not on duty at the moment, had gathered on the second floor of what was their "barracks," a small building that stood as the end of the section and the beginning of the gate meant to accommodate all of them while they served as its protector. That was fine, the smaller, more tightly-knit group meant better adaptation to the accommodations of this size.

The seven off duty men had gathered for their own ritual they practiced ever year on this day, their very own great escape. Every year they thought of some new, off-the-wall way to escape from the building that Link himself would be proud of. At first this was easy- simply slip out the back door. However, as the years went by Ark began to catch on, and now by this point she would certainly be actively searching for them. If she did happen upon them, she'd scold them, order them back inside, and resume her post, no more aware or alert than she was moments ago. That was the game- those were the rules. Their unspoken agreement was the solid foundation of the shaky trust that held the group together, and neither side ever broke it.

One of the older men, a man named Jurkz (but better known as Grave for the expression he constantly had on his face) had devised this year's plan- it was his turn. He had been constructing his plan since the previous year, secretive from Ark and his fellows in favor of hours of his life spent meticulously dreaming of creation or the act of building a working parody of the hero's own hook shot device. Those were the main method of his work, that was how he had come to actually creating the device.

The seven shuffled about nervously in the small, cramped area above the stairs but away from the rooms, by a large window that looked out the opposite way from the gate's posts, where Ark stood. They gathered around a table with a plain white sheet over it, at the end of which stood Grave, his face blank as usual but his hands spread as thought this were his last supper. With a grand motion, he tore the cloth from the table and revealed it- a long gauntlet with a spike on the end, rather unrefined in it's undecorated state but more than capable of fulfilling it's duties. Proudly, he hefted the device into the view of the others- it was larger by a considerable margin of Link's, but it worked.

Leaning from the window, Grave gave a proud speech on escaping that he had prepared for the year he had waited; The speech was practiced all for this moment. It seemed rather pointless, as no one listened and he knew they wouldn't, but it was more the presentation and that's just the kind of guy he was. As he spoke he worked the straps, attaching the terribly bulky device to his arm with a series of belt loops.

Hauling the makeshift hook shot to a well calculated angle, Grave held for a moment, let out a long breath, and fired the spike into the faithful hands of physics. The silvery edge shot through the air, the only sound following it being that of the chain it dragged along as it left the device. At first it seemed as though the shot had missed its mark by a wide margin as Grave lost sight of it, but it hit as he had calculated it would, dead on the money. The point stabbed through a wooden box, hefty when filled with stones as it was, placed upon the roof of another building as a target by one of Grave's allies. The resounding _thunk_ assured the inventor he had hit his mark- when the chain pulled tight, he was satisfied with his device's success. With that, he was also sure he and his fellows were home free- Ark couldn't check what she couldn't see, and the rooftops were far from her normal view.

This was the sublime moment of their fortune, when luck smiled upon them without them even truly knowing it- and they couldn't have known.

Grave braced himself against the wall and noted that it was now safe for the others to go- climbing across, of course. This was the harder half of the adventure, as many of them were impatient of the fact that only one could go at a time meant that the group was going to be here a while- minutes would drag by like hours as they climbed, but eventually all six of them would be across and Grave could finally let go, snapping the safety restraints of the chain and reeling it back in- however, since the spike was embedded in the crate, the device was the one that was pulled- with Grave riding shotgun.

In the distance, Hyrule's castle town looked like it was already ablaze. That was fine- it was no boon nor bane for them. The people were unaware of the fate that was so close to them, poised and ready. Like a rabbit unaware of the snake just behind it-and the furry animal without it's grand protector to save it. The snake was damaged for sure, but not dead. Not by a long shot.

The things were about to take place had been expertly calculated long before- they were ingeniously inescapable. The man on the black horse smiled a grim, twisted smile. It had started before Link had risen, when Ganondorf had taken over the kingdom. It had come to fruition at this point, and there was no stopping the machine at this point.

A fat, disgusting Bulblin clothed in ragged furs and scraps of clothing lumbered its bulk through the brush to its leader. Behind it were its smaller fellows- cowardly goblin like creatures. One of them lead a large boar which the largest would ride into battle soon. The largest glared at the man with his intense red eyes, his body pulsating with every breath. His question went without asking, he wanted to know when they would attack.

The man in black simply smiled from atop his horse. He reached behind him, and from the folds of his dark cloak revealed a brilliant white blade. Thrusting it above him, he gave his order in an unfittingly low tone.

"Order the catapults to fire. Then mount up and charge."


	2. Violence Begets

**The Legend of Zelda****Silhouettes in time**

"_I hardly see how the idea of an attack on central Hyrule is something we should worry about- the denizens of the dark corners of our good kingdom are banished, for good if we're lucky. I've not seen peace like this, well, since my oblivious childhood."_

_-Pelleon, the royal adviser of Hyrule_

**Chapter 2: ****Violence begets**

Laughter and pats on the back met Grave as he dismounted his hefty mechanism

and met with his cohorts atop the building, their smiles and high spirits setting the mood for their night, mostly likely spent at a milk bar nearby (a "milk bar" only by name of course) drinking and making merry followed by flirting and of course more drinking- that was their lot in life. That was all they had now, really. Evil resided in the hearts of men the same as it had before Link, but now the guards that once held off the forces of darkness from outside the walls were mostly worthless. This day alone almost made all their time standing around feel more like it was almost worth it. Almost.

While a child Grave never wanted this. His youth had told him to seek glory, riches, and an adventure of his own- as he aged he began to discover these things to be simply falsehoods that he would only achieve only while within the realm of his mind.. Nevertheless, when he was with his friends like this, he was their king, their prince, whatever he sought to be amongst his friends…

Snapping himself out of his stupor, Grave graciously accepted the final congratulations of the evening as they headed off to their first stop of the night, where they would drink until they would be willing to harass any woman that neared them with the strangest, creepiest smiles and pick up lines that would (with any luck) get those women into their beds that night. The likely hood of them actually getting one was slim, but that wasn't really the point, in the end.

With a smile, Grave directed the others to the side of the building where a ladder had been set up for them to get down before anything terrible occurred. The rooftops belonged to the thieves, after all. They always had- even under the rule of that shadow bandit they had ruled the rooftops without any to stop them. Many thieves actually thrived during his rule and even openly supported him, the swine. But due to them, the guards typically didn't set foot atop them without either a specific task or a death wish.

One of the men, Petton, spat something hastily, in a panicked tone as Grave neared the edge. There were lights out in the fields, tiny specks that could be fires. Concern was the most obvious response, but Grave kindly noted that not everyone lived in the castle town, and they would celebrate their own way. However, he noted that the lights were moving, rapidly. Too rapidly to simply be a festive fire.

Grave spun on his heel, his face painted with a sarcastic smile that lightly masked his annoyance, but spotting the glow as they took flight changed his mind. He stood in shock as the lights reached a high orbit above the city, where he identified it- a flaming piece of debris, likely from a catapult or some such device. Their trajectory was precise, to the point of being downright astounding in its aim.

"Get _DOWN_!"

The people may have screamed. They may have warned the more ignorant amongst them of what was about to occur. Their efforts proved in vain, however, as the raging death meant to incite panic found its mark and purpose atop the now ruined cobblestones of the square, which responded to the message by tearing upward out of the ground in an attempt to escape the crushing force of the newcomer. Bits and slices of stone and man dove away from the terrible will that was this attack.

Arkanhim slowly staggered to her feet with a sudden realization and horror as to what was occurring all around her. The shock of the people, the flame, the death the…

Snapping herself out of her shock, Ark turned away and clasped her hands over her ears as she fell to her knees. She could feel the warmth of the barrage at her back and the clang of the debris. More horrible than this was the very tower that she had lived in, and guarded so diligently, which had suffered direct hit. The unrestrained rage of the attack had found itself on the gatekeeper's home, forcing its stone walls to shift and separate before shattering in its wake. The deafening sound of the hollow edifice crumpling from the weight of the blow would haunt Ark for years to come, that much she knew.

But she was alive. The minuscule miracle that had allowed her to live was indeed well choreographed, the larger pieces soaring, bounding and crashing over and around her, some not reaching her at all. Nicolai was nowhere to be seen, a thought that saddened her deeply but left her with an empty sense of duty and a burning drive for revenge. She could probably save him, if she began digging now. But even if she did, he would be down for the count. On top of that, when whatever enemy came rushing through her hollow gate, he would die painfully. Mayhap more painfully than he was already going to or had. Whichever way things were about to occur, she now looked helplessly as the remains of her home came to a rest, its burnt and ravaged shell still standing where her memories had placed it so carefully. She would die along with it, tonight.

She could already feel the tears in her eyes as she braced her arm, checked herself for wounds, and drew her sword, her eyes drifting to the now impossible gap where the iron wall hidden within the roof had once been the prime protector. That same gate now made a ruined arena, leaving the gap to lay open, as it undoubtedly would for all time, with nothing anyone could do about it. She gripped her sword with pride and marched. Ark placed herself before the gap, standing upon minor bits of rubble, taking note of their position to prevent her from falling at the most inopportune times and thus spelling her death. With not but the idea of defense of her kingdom in her mind and an unnatural focus in her eyes to accompany the sword she gripped, she locked eyes with the first of her enemies as, a Bulblin of insignificant size dressed in ragged leather and furs. It's tiny, scraggly arms ended in two massive clubs, which it was using to bash the skulls of fleeing passer-bys.

Vacantly Ark wondered how long it had been since the catapults first went off. How long had it actually taken them to penetrate this far into the city? Surely not much time had passed, but was she really the first obstacle they had reached? The likely answer was yes, since the previous gates were probably destroyed and all their crew either dead or woefully unprepared. Their death had been determined before these things even neared the city.

The creature stepped toward Ark and started a swing, but a short stab in the ribs stopped it cold before it even had a chance to strike. As it collapsed, however, a second revealed itself from the crowd of rushing, panicked people and stepped towards her. That one would meet a similar fate as she arced her weapon across it's unarmored chest, creating a horrid gash that took it's life. As the creatures came, she struck them down, aided only by a strong arm and an equal will.

As the crowd thinned, however, she confirmed what she had thought before, that she was undoubtedly doomed here. Dozens more of them swarmed and prowled the streets, followed by a small group of armored knights, each looking lively without the tires of battle even upon them yet. Stepping back from her fresh kills, Ark brought her weapon up and prepared to meet each of them in battle, at once or one at a time, it really didn't matter to her.

Steeling herself for what was about to occur, she counted them. Bulblins were incompetent in battle against anyone with a weapon better than a shoe, but in bulk or when covering stronger foes they could prove more useful than one suspects. That was the case here, it seemed- the armored knights marching toward her amidst the crowd of foes proved a huge boost to their martial ability- not that they needed it against one lone soldier. However, through the tangled mass of flesh and flames of their own creation they had little breathing room in this tight corridor she had funneled them all to her, something Ark wasn't sure she was thankful for yet.

Stepping from her last "free" kill, Ark met the first of the next wave, a brave (or possibly foolish) Bulblin that swung its jagged, makeshift club in an attempt to brain her. But that wasn't the attack, just a fake out. Another Bulblin, beside her, bashed the side of her head with a rock, causing her to stagger away from her assailants. While the attack smarted and even managed to draw blood, Ark neither fell nor bent to them. Nay, the creature was met instead with a retaliation of metal entering it's chest, causing a grievous slash wound that caused it to bleed out across the killing floor beside it's brethren. Thankfully, these things weren't smart enough to keep up momentum in a fight, so thank the goddesses for idiots.

The next of the creatures held in its paw a spear, or rather a long stick that tapered to a point at one end, jabbing at her but managing only a light wound, allowing Ark to grab the spear and yank it from the other's hands. Dropping the weapon to strike at another as it neared her, Ark didn't even notice as a single, smaller, creature which had clambered atop a pile of rubble and leapt upon her, bringing her down into an exposed, vulnerable position that her aggressors would no doubt take advantage of.

From all around came stabs, slashes and clubbing strikes, but Ark managed to stay standing despite the creature on her back, chocking her, obscuring her vision, trying to break her neck. She stepped shakily backward, away from her foes, meeting a chunk of rubble and toppling away from them in a single motion, throwing the Bulblin from her.

Standing valiantly from the fall, Ark checked first to see if the Bulblin behind her was out, a suspicion confirmed with a quick stab. Spinning, she prepared herself to resume the fight, but decided in the end that is wasn't a grand idea. Instead of meeting with more Bulblins, weak and frail enemies, she instead came face-to-mask with one of the fully armored knights, who, judging by his body language, was none to pleased about what she was doing.

"Maiden, what are you doing here?"

Well that caught her off guard. The knight didn't sound like a monster, he sounded… well, like a young man. On top of that, he sounded genuinely confused. "Excuse me?"

"What are you doing here? This is no place for a maiden. Flee, get back to your home." The knight still sounded confused, but a straightforward tone overpowered it as he shuffled his horse about and readied his halberd in preparation for battle, or possibly for intimidation. It didn't work.

"I'm sorry but I am a knight of Hyrule! I will fight until death!" She said, bracing herself and raising her sword in preparation for a quick stab at him.

"Charming." Annoyed? He honestly sounded annoyed! The nerve! Ark bit her lip as she ditched her stabbing stance and adopted another battle stance, preparing to fight with the man, but she knew it was hopeless already. She was hurt, he was fully armored, and the Bulblins had been very polite in waiting for them to finish, which was something the never did. For anyone.

The initial charge was the worst of it, the bulk of the sudden rush throwing her to the ground as the stab of the halberd also met her. In an attempt to get away, she lunged to the side, but the weight of the attack still managed upon her, and Ark stumbled head-over-heels across the rubble, slamming into a particularly large slab of stone as she came to a rest.

Warm life streamed from the back of her head, and the sting of the minor wounds the Bulblins had caused was finally getting to her. But nonetheless, she rose to her feet, defiant, and tried to assume a battle stance. When she dropped her sword, she felt it. The hopelessness, the primordial fear of death. The natural fear that everyone felt in such a situation… and a single hit, on the back of her head, with a blunted object, likely from one of the Bulblins who had been standing around doing… actually, she hadn't noticed what they were doing. She was focusing on the knight, not them, and now it had cost her dearly as she faded into blackness….


End file.
